


Good Night, 'til It Be Morrow

by yubiwamonogatari



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:50:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yubiwamonogatari/pseuds/yubiwamonogatari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perils and benefits of sharing bedrolls on the road. A short Gimlas / Gigolas fic written for the wonderful Dets! Happy (belated) birthday, my love!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Night, 'til It Be Morrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).



 

 

 

“You are cold, my friend, and it seems pointless that you should shiver so.”

“Aye,” Gimli replied, though his cheeks felt distinctly warmer now than they had a moment ago, “but that doesn't mean I need to be held through the night like some bairn in their first winter.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

“I hardly offered to hold you. Aragorn takes the first watch, and Gandalf speaks to Shadowfax. The cold doesn't bite me as it does you, and while you are practically on top of the camp-fire, I fear that if you move any closer to it in your sleep, you will wake with your beard singed.”

The elf moved to sit beside Gimli, drawing out his own bedroll from his pack and laying it down so the edges overlapped those of Gimli's own.

“Besides,” he continued, merrily, “Gandalf will take the second watch. It would be unwise to waste a full night's sleep on tossing and turning for warmth.”

Gimli pulled his blanket a little tighter around himself as Legolas stretched out on the thin, silken bedroll.

“And what of your sleep? Will I not distract you from whatever it is you do that you call 'sleeping', elf?” he grumbled, trying to fight off another shiver as a gust of cold, Rohan air blew across them.

Legolas breathed out a little laugh and turned with a shake of his head, lining his back along Gimli's own. The difference in warmth was almost immediate, and while Gimli had known it couldn't be true, he'd always thought of elves as cold to the touch, somehow. As distant as the starlight they loved.

The elf at his back was a forge, as warm as the fire before him.

Gimli clamped his eyes shut, grumbling into his beard and tucking his fingers into his armpits. He tried not to lean back against Legolas, but as another valiant gust rolled over him, he gave up the fight.

Pride be damned. Hadn't pride been the root of their difficulties, before Lothlórien, and the Lady? Headstrong, arrogant, stubborn, the both of them. Under golden boughs they'd set their differences, and their unfavourable similarities, aside. After the long dark of Khazad-dûm and the nightmarish run across Rohan, only to believe Merry and Pippin burned within the rank pile of Orcish corpses, his friendship with Legolas had become stronger. Bound in war, in grief, and in joy when Gandalf returned, reassuring them the two hobbit rascals were hale and hearty.

If he could call Legolas 'friend' to his companions, then he could accept a warm back to lay against during a cold night.

Gimli drifted off to the smell of wood smoke, and the steady, even breathing of Legolas close by.

 

 

 

*

 

 

“I should be glad for your company tonight, lad, if you have the heart.”

“The darkness of Mordor casts a shadow across my very fëa,” sighed Legolas, moving to sit beside Gimli on his bedroll. “I would follow Aragorn into the fires of the mountain, but still I quake before such a battle as the one we will fight at the gates. I begin to see, I think, my own mortality.”

“Don't talk nonsense. Nothing will strike down a warrior like yourself,” Gimli said gruffly, puffing at his pipe and letting his shoulder brush against Legolas' arm. “You'll still be skipping around forests a thousand years from now, singing your daft songs and listening to the wee brooks babbling between the trunks.”

Legolas laughed softly, shifting so he could lean more heavily against Gimli's shoulder.

“Such high praise, from a dwarf to an elf.”

“And more to come tomorrow, when we stand victorious!” Gimli nodded resolutely, blowing a slow stream of smoke into the dark.

Legolas was silent for a while, resting against Gimli's side. Then he sighed softly.

“Do you believe we will survive, my friend?”

“... No,” Gimli said, keeping his voice low. Legolas' body was warm against his, and his friend's weight was a comfort in the miserable gloom before Mordor. “No, my friend, I don't think we will. How can we? Barely five hundred men against legions and legions of orcs is a doomed fight. One that might just give Frodo the time he needs to do what he must, if he still draws breath. I would gladly die for a cause like that.”

The feeling of Legolas' head resting against his own was new, but not unwelcome. The elf's body was loose, almost huddled against his, and while he'd been the one who'd asked Legolas to sit a while, it was clear his friend was in need of the comfort himself.

“I do not know if I'm ready to die,” Legolas whispered.

Gimli stayed his tongue for a few moments, letting his hand rest against Legolas' knee.

“I won't insult you by telling you to slip away into the night, laddie. We both know you'll be on that plain tomorrow morning. I don't think many go to war ready to die, but sometimes die we must. I'd rather give my life for hope than keep it for despair, and despair we will have in abundance if we live but Frodo fails.”

“Ah...! You speak wiser than any elf, Gimli,” Legolas sighed. “I will stand and fight tomorrow, of that I do not doubt. But I shall be afraid.”

“Nothing wrong with being afraid,” replied Gimli, a little gruffly. He squeezed Legolas' knee. “Have heart. Tomorrow holds events none can predict. You may be afraid, but you will not be alone.”

“That brings me greater comfort than you can know. Come,” Legolas said, drawing away only to urge Gimli to lay down on his bedroll. “I would have you rested, and with all your wits about you, in hope we will wake to many more dawns.”

Gimli grumbled out a low noise as he was urged down, tapping out the ashes from his pipe and reaching for his blanket. Around them the camp was quiet, on the brink of a storm, but as Legolas curled up against his back and he closed his eyes, he could forget for a moment what tomorrow would bring and listen to the pull and release of air from his friend.

Legolas' fingers were warm against his back, and if he noticed how they curled to grasp onto his tunic, he was too close to sleep to mention it.

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Gimli tucked a loose strand of blond hair back behind one of Legolas' delicately pointed ears, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand.

“And for what reason do you wake me before the sun, meddling elf? The trees of Fangorn move very slowly, I'm sure we'll catch them up if they're taking a walk.”

“Yet they walk farther than the glittering caves of Aglarond do, and you champed at the bit to go to them!” laughed Legolas, capturing Gimli's hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. Around them the sounds of the oncoming dawn bustled in the grass and bushes, but the faint reflections of the stars still hung in the sky, and the sun was but a smudge on the horizon.

“Ach, well! You never know who might've found them in my absence, and mined them senselessly for their jewels,” Gimli grumbled.

He stretched out on their shared bedroll and yawned once more before he pushed himself up to sit. Taking the offered mug of tea from Legolas' hands, Gimli blinked a few times to clear his sleepy mind, scratching idly at his belly. Legolas was already dressed for the day, his hair in a simple braid. He'd have been awake for hours, waiting for Gimli to join him until he could wait no more.

“Besides,” he continued after a sip of the hot drink, “I have learned the trees of Fangorn can protect themselves from any axe. Rock is not so lucky.”

Legolas smiled widely, starting to pack up their little camp site in the glowering pre-dawn, his eager excitement written all over his face. Fondness rose fiercely in Gimli's chest, and when Legolas drew near enough, he gently pulled the elf down so he could place a sound kiss to his lips.

“Let me splash a little water on my face and have a bite to eat, and we'll be on our way, amralê.”

The elf laughed, the tinkling notes prettier than any birdsong, and a wide smile on his beautiful face. Gimli leaned into the feeling of Legolas' fingers against his cheeks, combing idly through his beard as he crouched beside him.

“You will understand the beauty of the forest this time, meleth nín.”

“Aye,” Gimli nodded, letting go of Legolas and pushing himself to his feet, “if you are in it.”

He finished his tea, rinsing out the mug with a little water from his skein before putting it into his pack, starting to roll up the bedroll as Legolas laughed again.

“Silver tongued Gimli! I will teach you some of the first songs sung among those timeless trees, and you will feel the beginning of Arda as keenly as I do. I will open a love for the trees in your heart, as you opened a love in mine for the rock and stone beneath the earth.”

Gimli snorted, biting into some of the cram and dried meats he'd dug from his pack, crooking a warm smile at the other.

“Aye. I look forwards to it.”

He'd do anything, as long as it was with Legolas.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [on Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com) Come and say hello!
> 
> Thank you so much for all hits, kudos, and comments <3 they mean the world to me!


End file.
